


Lady Sings the Blues

by blerdxlines



Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Woman Reader, Black female reader - Freeform, Character(s) of Color, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Dinner, Dress Up, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by Music, Love Confessions, Music, Musicians, Oral Sex, Panties, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sad Ending, Self-Insert, Sexual Humor, Singing, Slow Dancing, Star-crossed, Unrequited Love, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blerdxlines/pseuds/blerdxlines
Summary: Jet's been in love with the Blues since he was a baby, but when he catches the eye a curious singer at a Blues club on Ganymede, for the first time in a while, he falls in a different kind of love.
Relationships: Jet Black/Reader
Kudos: 22





	Lady Sings the Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the song Lady Sings the Blues by Billie Holiday.
> 
> It's implied that the reader is a plus-size Black woman.
> 
> It's implied that during most of this fanfiction Jet's wearing that god-awful cream-colored 3 piece suit he wore to the casino in "Honky-Tonk Women".

Faye glanced around as she entered the kitchen, turning toward Spike. "Hey, Jet's been disappearing the past few evenings. Where's he been running off to?"

Spike shrugged, "Knowing Jet, it's either a topic secret mission that's none of our business or a woman."

* * *

You couldn't help but notice the tall lean man in the ill-fitted cream suit that frequented your evening shows.

He'd sit at the very back table of the club in a similarly colored hat, dark sunglasses, and his head down. In spite of his ambiguous style of dress, you could tell he didn't favor the usual patrons.

That's not to say that white folks didn't enjoy blues, you're sure they did. They just didn't frequent your club very often.

He always stays long enough for a few songs from your set, but quietly ducks out before your final number.

The few times he's actually lifted his head up to see you, he nods along and offers the slightest of smiles.

He's mysterious, a looming presence that forgoes most people's interest.

But his aura enchants you.

* * *

Jet finished his glass of gin just before the start of your final set. He nods to the server who arrives to take his glass and rises from his chair, ready to move toward the exit when you sit yourself on his table, crossing one leg over the other, the pointed tip of your feel brushing against his leg. His eyes trickled down your face and curvy silhouette, you looked even better up close.

"Aren't you a strong looking man? You look like you know how to treat a big gal right. What's your name, Mister?"

You tipped your microphone to him and Jet chewed his lip for a moment before sitting again, responding.

"Jet Black."

You smiled, bringing the mic back to your lips. "And that voice. I know you know the blues, Mr. Black, you don't even have to sing it."

You reached in, grabbing him by his scarf, slowly tugging him in toward you, hand covering the mic.

"Don't go anywhere Jet, the show's about to start."

He grabbed your hand gently, kissing the back of your palm as you smiled and sauntered away.

"Would you look at that? You think you know a John."

Jet didn't even hear the bitter blues ballad you sang.

He didn't need to.

* * *

"Thank you all for the wonderful evening, please enjoy the chords of our lovely in-house band."

They applauded as you exited the stage, dropping the mic into its stand, and waving to the moving crowd.

Jet raised from his seat, heading toward the door, pressing another cigarette between his lips.

"Do you dance, Jet Black?" Jet glanced over his shoulder to find you saddled up not too far behind him. He smiled, plucking the cigarette from his lips, tucking it back into his breast pocket.

"Think I know a few moves."

* * *

His hands rested at your mid-back, tentative and gentle as you swayed back and forth. You felt over his biceps, noting how hard they were. "I didn't take you for the kinda man that works out."

He spun a bit, leading your steps into the next number. "Guess there's more to me than meets the eye."

He lifted his sleeve, revealing the brass metal prosthetic arm underneath. You oohed, smoothing your fingers along the shiny finish.

"You sure are good with that thing."

"Should be. I've had it for over ten years."

"Well. You're just full of surprises." You smiled, bringing his hand to rest a little lower on your booty.

Suddenly he dipped you low, lower than you'd ever been dipped before and you gasped. You couldn't stop the excited giggles as he brought you back up without missing a step or stride.

"You got me wrong on a few things, but you were right about that first part."

His metal hand pinched at your booty and you gasped, clutching your necklace as you glanced around in slight embarrassment.

* * *

You started looking forward to spying that horrendous cream suit during your evening performances. Jet eventually convinced you to go to dinner with him, and you surprisingly agreed. Afterward, he walked you home from your date and up to the front stoop of your split level duplex.

"Boy, I still recognize this area. Used to have a few friends that lived right up the block."

"Oh yeah?" You replied, fishing a ring of keys out your purse.

"Maybe I'll take a walk around the block and pay them a visit."

"Before you do that," You keyed open the door, stepping into the small, dimly lit entryway to your home.

"Could you help me with this zipper?" You raised your arm, exposing the zipper that split down your curvaceous side.

Jet stammered a bit, glancing between your dress, and the subtly coy look on your face.

"It's always getting stuck, it's so hard to take it off. Would you mind helping me?"

You'd never seen the man blush as much as when he stepped in, shutting the door behind himself.

Jet, grabbed at the tiny zipper, slowly following it down before stopping warily at your mid-side. You gently grabbed his hand, dragging it all the way down to your hip, exposing all the flesh that exists in between.

Jet felt his blood pressure rise as he looked upon your shining flesh. He indulged his temptation, letting his hand trail along the stripes of your skin, even venturing down a little further than your zipper where he couldn't help but notice something.

He whispered, voice low. "You don't wear--" "--Panties?" You tugged the dress down your hips, revealing that you wore nothing but a strapless bra. "Never."

* * *

You gasped, stretching out the neckline of Jet's tanktop as he rolled his neck, rhythmically sucking your clit as his fingers followed a similar pattern, drilling into you. "Jet!" You screamed.

He grunted in response, shaking his head. He wasn't gonna stop. Not now, not yet.

" _Jet! Jet-- **JET!**_ " You snapped your legs shut around his head, theoretically suffocating him until he stopped. He sat still for a moment, his hands smoothing up your thighs, waiting for you to release him.

You freed him from your hold and he smirked, his nose, lips, and beard shiny with sweat and wetness.

"You're an awful man."

"Not the first time I heard that."

Jet wiped his mouth and kissed a line up your hip and stomach before crawling his way between your thighs.

"I was right." You started and Jet gave you a peculiar look. "You do look better between my legs." He started out with a hoarse chuckle, falling into a brief fit of laughter, dropping his head into your chest.

He laid quiet, listening to your slow heartbeat and his mind flashed back to the Bebop.

"I should probably head home." He moved to sit up and was surprised to feel wrap your arms around his head, pulling him back to lay against your breast.

"Stay until the morning, Jet. Please?"

Jet thought on it for a bit, the feeling of your nails smoothing over his scalp distracted his better judgment.

"How do you like your eggs?" He asked and you beamed as you locked your ankles around his waist.

"Fertilized."

* * *

Jet was on cloud nine. His cheery renditions of old jazz hits could be heard all throughout the Bebop. Neither Spike nor Faye knew what to make of it. 

* * *

"You know, I never wanted this." Jet started, arms stretching around your waist pulling you close.

"What?" You indulged him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, tying gently at his neck.

"To be old. Living a life of regret. In love with a woman."

You offered him a half-smile, your heart ached.

"Thought I'd become this big-time cop. Retire early. Settle down with a fine woman. Buy a house with 2 and a half dogs. The traditional life."

"Maybe in 2020." You joked, laughing at his sudden wallow of self-pity.

Jet looked at you, the way he did when he had something heavy on his spirit.

"Maybe I could have that now."

You paused, looking at him for a moment slowly realizing he was serious.

"Jet. What will you do? Where will you go?"

"I'm sure I can find a shop on Ganymede looking for a mechanic."

"But what about The Bebop? What about Spike and everyone else?"

"They can have it. She's no good if she isn't a bounty hunting vessel."

"But..." Your voice trailed off.

"But they're your family, Jet."

Jet stopped, holding you still as he gazed deep in your eyes.

"I choose my family, Y/N." He started. "And I wanna choose you."

You released him from your hold, dropping your hands to his where he gave you a puzzled look.

"Jet, I..." You started. "I can't let you give up everything you have-- everything you love-- for the idea of me." Jet looked shocked as he searched your eyes for an explanation.

"This isn't what you want. You don't want a simple life. That's what the old Jet wanted... Freedom. Your friends. The Bebop... they're what you want."

"But I want to be with you. A home, a pet, a--" You cut him off, a pained smile on your face. "That isn't what I want, Jet. I don't want that for myself."

Jet looked sickly, pale, stunned, you walked him back to his seat. He couldn't bring himself to speak to you.

"I'll always have love for you, Jet Black."

You leaned in, leaving him with a parting kiss at the corner of his mouth.

You took to the stage, the audience applauding as you took hold of the mic.

"This song is dedicated to all the star crossed lovers out there. The ones we know. The ones we are. Here's hoping we find each other again."

The instruments began and you performed a song you performed every night, though Jet hadn't heard it before. Your final number.

" _Lady sings the blues_

 _She's got them bad_ "

Jet heard you sing. This time it wasn't a lovely voice from a lovely woman. It was a raw pain in the form of a song.

The hoarse emotion in your voice could be felt all the way in the back of the room.

" _Lady sings the blues_

_She tells her side_

_nothing to hide_ "

Jet lowered his head and closed his eyes, letting himself really feel the lyrics, feel the pain for the first time.

" _The blues ain't nothing but a pain in your heart_

 _when you get a bad start_ "

It felt like he was feeling heartbreak for the first time all over again.

" _When you and your man have to part_

_I ain't gonna just sit around and cry_

_And now I won't die_

_Because I love him_ "

* * *

Jet fell heavy on the couch, shoulders slumped, motionless, he stared at the floor between his feet.

Spike entered the room, joining Faye and Ed who ogled Jet from across the room. He crouched down to their level, joining their concerted effort of observation.

"How long's he been like this?"

"Who knows?" Faye answered. "He's been sitting like this for hours."

Spike cocked an eyebrow, walking over to Jet, hands in his pockets, stopping at his side, earning no visible response. He bent at the waist, leaning in real close, examining him before spotting a bright red kiss mark at the corner of Jet's lips.

Spike sighed, digging in his breast pocket, pressing a cigarette between Jet's slightly parted lips, lighting it with a flash of his lighter.

Jet didn't move, quietly exhaling a cloud of smoke as Spike sat across from him, lighting a cigarette of his own and dragging on it.

"They haven't even spoken a word to each other." Faye whispered to Ed, who was laid on the floor, completely disinterested, cuddling Ein.

Silence hung between the two like the lingering clouds of smoke.

Spike let out a heavy sigh. "Women, amirite?"

Jet shut his eyes, chuckling. "Women."

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to imply that Jet falling into a blind love with the reader made it so he couldn't hear (or feel, rather.) the music of the Blues. Only after they separate is he able to hear/feel it again.
> 
> I didn't go far out of my way to imply it, but I wo der if anyone caught that.


End file.
